


In a New Time

by ThatRadFailure



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Alternate Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23615641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRadFailure/pseuds/ThatRadFailure
Summary: Booker DeWitt finally has somewhat of a life he wanted. Sure, he works as a delivery boy for Delta's Bakery now, but at least he finally doesn't have those debts.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	In a New Time

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always open to getting criticism! Not sure how I did writing Booker's character, but I hope I did well :)

As Booker DeWitt strapped the box to the back of his bicycle, he couldn’t help but think about just how he got here; a delivery boy for Delta’s Bakery, riding off down the streets to deliver someone some freshly baked goods, maybe bread or a nice desert. If he were honest, he stuck to his old bike because he was a little scared of those cars. Sure, they looked nice, he admitted to that, but they were metal boxes with machines in one end. That just sounded so dangerous to Booker, just an accident waiting to happen. So he stuck to his bicycle, it was fast enough and got him plenty of exercise. And Delta didn’t seem to mind, though that Augustus Sinclair seemed to. But he didn’t have a say, it was Delta’s place, and Booker was glad for that.

As he started pedaling, the events leading up to this new freedom recapped themselves in his mind. It all started off with Booker just trying to clear his debts. That was all he wanted at that point, to be debt free and not needing to worry about those vicious debt collectors. So he was sent to that lighthouse. It seemed just so simple at first- go in, find the girl, take her back to New York and clear away his debts. 

But no. It just wasn't going to be that easy, of course not. Strapped to a rocket, sent to a floating city, traveled to different times and dimensions, and killed his own self that had gone, what, mad with power or something? He wished he could bash Comstock’s head with a birdbath a second time for how he treated Elizabeth…

At least he had Elizabeth now. No way he’d let anything happen to her again, not after being so irresponsible when she was just a baby. She brought him to this seaside town in the far future, 1968, and now they both had a second chance. Booker wasn’t sure if he deserved it, after considering himself nothing more than just a sad murder machine for so many years. Even now he was still sad, but… Things were better.

No, things certainly weren’t perfect, but they were much better. No more debts, no more living in fear, no more loneliness… Finally, he could live in peace with his daughter with a stable job, just like he should have in the first place. Sure, there were things that were the same, such as his barren apartment room, with just a bed, desk, and dresser, and that feeling of someone rounding a corner out of nowhere with a baseball bat and a debt to collect never left him, either. He thought it ridiculous to feel like that, but he supposed old habits, or feelings in this case, die hard.

Finally, he came to where he needed to be. Booker parked his bike on the very side of the sidewalk. He checked the box’s address before picking it up and going up the steps of a decent looking house. He knocked on the door and wondered about the customer. Maybe they just wanted a night in with a loved one, or just someone wanting a lazy night with some radio. Er, well it would probably be that television thing, he was still unfamiliar with it.

Instead, a boy looking about ten or thirteen opened the door. That was a bit of a surprise, but the kid was probably having a sleepover.

“Hey, kid. Are your parents home? I think they ordered some food.” Booker said, a little nervous. Not often he talked to kids, usually it was the adults at the door.

“They didn’t, I did. Here, now give me the cookies.” The boy said, holding out some cash. Well, if he was paying.

Booker handed over the box and took the cash, and got the door slammed in his face before he could even tell the kid to have a good night. What a way to sour the mood… He shoved the cash in his pocket and hopped back on the bike, starting his way back to the bakery. 

It wasn’t the first time he’s gotten a door slammed in his face, and it always made him feel like absolute crap. Practically worthless, just another tool for lazy jerks that never cared about someone who worked a job deemed lower than their own. Whatever, he got paid, hopefully with a tip, and would just get another delivery to go do. Maybe a sweet old lady that wouldn’t mind some company, or a tired parent who wanted to treat their family without breaking out the pots and pans. Those were the ones he particularly liked, since they tended to give him a smile and kind words with their thanks. They always made him feel… somewhat important. Like their night would’ve been bad if Booker wasn’t there to do his job. It was nice to feel like that, to feel important, even if it was in such a small way.


End file.
